


That Boy

by no_what



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Communication, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, new relationship jitters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_what/pseuds/no_what
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He nods resolutely. A chance. Without second-guessing anything before it’s happened, this, he and Jack, they deserved a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is a sort of ... fill in the blanks fic? 
> 
> Let's talk about the Fourth of July because as much as I love and worship Ngozi, I need more Zimbits spending this star-spangled holiday together and figuring out their relationship.
> 
> Some slight angst to come ... sorry ...

Bitty’s phone buzzes. 

His heart is pounding. He almost doesn’t feel the vibration. He unlocks his phone and looks.

 _Eat more protein_ , it says.

And he laughs, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. His heart flutters and he feels lightheaded but he can’t stop laughing, can’t catch his breath. Jack Laurent Zimmerman. That boy.

And just when Bitty’s heart couldn’t race any faster—

 _I miss you_.

_I miss you, too. Jack, lordie, I miss you, too._

Bitty pulls a shaky hand over his eyes, a watery grin plastered on his face. How long had he thought about this? (“Never fall for a straight guy …”) He wishes he could rewind time and stop Jack from running. What kind of gentleman kisses a boy and then dashes? He huffs a little. Indignant.

His lips are tingling a little and he presses his fingers to them.

How was he going to get through the summer? Now that he had kissed Jack? Now that he had _tasted_ Jack’s lips? Before he knows it, he’s typing out that exact question. And hitting send. Jack’s response is immediate.

_When can I see you?_

Bitty’s eyes widen and he lets out a long, shaky breath.

When he closes his eyes, he sees Jack’s face before the first kiss. Their first kiss. His eyes were wide, his lips parting slightly before he took a step towards Bitty. (Was he going to say something?) Then it was Jack. It was all Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, and oh Jack. Gracious Jack. Quiet Jack. Soft Jack. Bitty, shrouded in the memory, hears Jack inhale through his nose when he finally kissed back. His cheekbone is warm with the brush of Jack’s thumb ghosting across it. His ears echo with his own name on Jack’s lips.

_As soon as possible, Mr. Zimmerman. We have some talking to do, young man._

_Good talking, I promise_ , Bitty amends.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and it feels like a balloon deflating in his diaphragm. Somehow he still can’t get enough air. It’s all he can do not to whoop and holler for joy.

_I like good talking. What about good texting?_

Bitty smiles to himself. Goodness gracious he was far gone for this boy.

_Yes, absolutely._

So they texted. Jack and Bitty. Heading to Montreal. Heading to Georgia.

_I forgot the good ol’ Georgia humidity. Save me Jack Zimmerman, you’re my only hope._

_Very funny, Bittle._

Heading to training. Headed to camp.

_It’s not Samwell. It’s not Haus. It’s not with you._

_You sap, you. They’ll be good for you. Tell me more about Tater before the cell service gets shot._

In good times.

_Bitty the team is like, finally clicking. It’s amazing. I feel, I feel like this was … a good decision._

_Jack, darlin’, it warms me to hear you say that._

In not so good times.

_The people here, Jack … I guess I got used to Samwell … I forgot how Southerners can be._

_Bitty … I wish I was there. Soon I’ll be there._

The two were in near constant communication when signal would permit it. And Bitty found it comforting. But he also wanted—no—needed Jack to be there in person. Under his hands. Against his lips. He needed to see his shy smile, the tips of his ears, his eyes.

Bitty’s stomach does somersaults every time he looks at his calendar. He had purposefully packed his summer, signing up to counsel a few camps back to back. But the Fourth. Well, his Momma would never have forgiven him if he had missed the Bittle family barbecue. Nor would she have forgiven him if he had not kindly extended an invitation to his friend Jack Zimmerman.

Three weeks. In three weeks he’d drive the truck back home, barely sleep, and rise early to drive to the Atlanta airport to pick up his … boyfriend? Is that what they were?

Bitty reaches for his phone, immediately wanting to ask Jack. But he catches himself, remembering that his phone never had the best service at the S’mores camp. He wants to have that conversation the right way. Face to face.

The other counselors, and even the kids, tease him mercilessly about his distracted smiles and antsy hands. More than once (heck, more than a dozen times) Bitty has needed a nudge to snap out of a daydream. The kids in his cabin are used to hearing “Halo” being belted in the showers. His supervisors catch him reaching for his phone during breaks, frowning slightly, only to hold it up to the sky hoping for some kinda miracle. Usually such an endeavor ends in a shrug and a sigh. But every now and then, those supervisors witness such pure joy as Bitty gasps and types something out and laughs.

Sometimes, Bitty feels like he’s hurtling towards the Fourth. The days fly by. Each passing moment is as fast as his heartbeat. One minute he’s at the lakeside with the kids, thinking about Jack in swim trunks, the next he’s singing campfire songs with all his might and realizing the countdown is one day less.

But sometimes, Bitty can’t help but slow down. And maybe the kids and counselors notice his good moods, but his bad ones slip by without a glance. He’s good at putting on a smile, keeping the energy up. But maybe he doesn’t sing as loudly. Or maybe when he reaches for his phone, he stops short and clenches his fist. Little things.

On days like that, well, on days like that Bitty’s heart beats fast for all the wrong reasons. He’s not out at home. Jack’s not out to the team, let alone to the world of hockey. A world of bigots and slurs and beatings and aggression and—

Bitty has to catch his breath. He has to sit down behind the supplies shed. And as much as he tries, he can’t help but think about all that could go wrong, and how he wouldn’t be able to fix it. He alone would not be enough. Samwell was a whole hour from Providence and Bitty didn’t have a car. If Jack needed him … if Jack wanted him, could Bitty get there in time? See, now that Bitty could, he wanted to be there to rub Jack’s back and calm his breathing. He wanted to kiss his neck and breathe him in. And he can’t. And while the Fourth will be a respite, Providence is an hour away.

On these days, after a little bit, Bitty picks himself up and gets back to his routine. It moves a little slower but it keeps moving. And he tries to resolve to take the entire … thing … relationship, blow by blow.

But if Bitty is anything, he is optimistic. Or he tries to be. So when it’s time to start packing up and sending the kids off, he lets small smiles slip and brushes his lips with his fingers.

Waving goodbye to the yellow school bus full of kids feels surreal. Picking up his bag and throwing it into the back of the truck is fuzzy in his memory. The drive back is in slow motion. His truck constantly humming and rattling. The radio is quiet in the background. For once, Bitty doesn’t feel like listening to music. He doesn’t want the soundtrack.

He quietly allows himself to imagine a future where things work well. He imagines a future where he visits Jack every other weekend. He imagines a future where they pad around his apartment, laughing and throwing each other glances. He imagines waking up to Jack. He imagines telling Shitty and Lardo and the rest of the team. He imagines going to Epikegsters holding Jack’s hand. He imagines coming home and holding _Jack_.

He shakes himself, almost missing his exit.

He needs to stop. It’s not smart to think like this. The future isn’t knowable. It’s not something that can be promised. He knows that. He does. He’s learned that lesson.

Bitty’s mouth is set in a firm line.

Who can know? Who can know that they don’t crash and burn? (Bitty shakes his head, they won’t.) That they’re being foolish even trying? (Bitty bites his lip hard they aren’t.) That they won’t ruin each other? (Bitty exhales quickly, they’ll make each other better.) That they won’t fuck this up? (Bitty pulls over and slams on the breaks, they have to try.) That they won’t—

“Honey, I’m so glad you’re home! How were the kids?” And his train of thought screeches to a halt.

“Momma! Oh Momma, it was lovely. Sorry, I’m a bit outta it. Bless their hearts, the kids were lovely.” He hops out of the car quickly and hugs her tightly.

“I’m so glad, honey. Now you go get settled in but in a bit you want to help out in the kitchen? ‘M getting some baking done before everyone comes.” Bitty nods and follows his Momma into the house. Dropping his bag in the hallway, he tries to shake the jitters he felt.

(Jack would be here tomorrow. Bitty was going to pick him up from the airport. They were going to spend almost a week together.)

He nods resolutely. A chance. Without second-guessing anything before it’s happened, this, he and Jack, they deserve a chance.

“Dicky?” Bitty jumps.

“Yes, yes, here I am. Sorry. Goodness, I don’t know where my head it today.”

So Bitty helps his Momma, throws some loads of laundry in the washer, and then promptly panics at the state of his room.

It’s not … well it’s not a _complete_ mess. His duffel from camp is sort of overflowing in the corner. There are some boxes from Samwell stacked haphazardly against the far wall. His bed’s not exactly made. _His bed_. Oh lord, where was Jack going to sleep? Was he … would he …?

Bitty takes a deep breath and sets that thought aside. Now, well, now he has to straighten up. He has a guest coming; it’s time to get to work. So obviously some Beyoncé is in order.

Bitty focuses on the music and on his task. He doesn’t let his mind wander, no. He doesn’t think about Jack’s hands, the callouses on his fingers. He doesn’t recall the muscles on his back. His laugh. How the corners of his eyes crinkle. His soft eyes.

So much for focus. It’s nearly suppertime and his room looks exactly the same. Bitty sighs and drops onto his bed. He closes his eyes, only for a second. A smile plays across his face and he presses his hands into his eyes until he sees sparks. Jack’s going to be with him tomorrow. His fears still simmer below the surface, but Beyoncé must have some sort of healin’ effect because they’re quashed by the anticipation of hearing Jack’s laugh. After a month of sporadic texting and patchy cell service, Jack’s going to be next to Bitty, bumping his shoulder, holding his hand. Maybe—

“Dicky, honey! Your Daddy’s home, supper’s ready!

Bitty sits upright and shakes himself. _Tomorrow_. It’s a promise.

By midnight, Bitty does get his room straightened up. He carefully rolls up a sleeping bag and sets an extra pillow in the corner. Just in case.

Lying in his bed, Bitty can’t stop smiling. He feels weightless. He pulls out his phone.

 _Sleep tight_ , he types out. He’s barely pressed sent when he receives a reply.

_As if I can sleep._

Bitty practically squeals.

_Jack Zimmerman you’re making me blush._

_That’s the goal._

At that Bitty laughs out loud.

_You’ve always scored goals._

_Bittle, was that a pun?_

_You bet it was._

_:) See you tomorrow morning, Bittle._

_Sweet dreams~_

Bitty forces himself to put his phone down and pull the covers up. It’s not like he isn’t going to wake up in a few hours to make the drive out west to get Jack. (Why that boy had grabbed such an early flight, Bitty would never know. Not that he was complaining, the sooner he could see him the better.)

He falls asleep thinking about just how fast he could drive on the highway to get to the airport on time. And maybe a grimace falls across his face for a second, maybe darker thoughts cross his mind momentarily, but they are gone in a flash. Because there’s a warm feeling in his heart.

And he thinks it might just be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome to Georgia ..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter this time because I wanted to include something special at the end ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

Bitty’s alarm rings out at five in the morning. He doesn’t groan and role out of bed like he had during the school year when Jack woke him up for checking practice. No, this time he practically skips out of bed. This time he doesn’t mind seeing Jack so early in the morning.

Getting ready to go was an exercise in control. Bitty brushes his teeth. Twice. And he definitely does _not_ spend too long on his hair.

(He sheared the sides of his head short before heading off to camp. He remembers sending Jack a selfie with a wink.

_Off to toast some marshmallows. ;)_

_Bitty what did you do to your hair???_

_Do you like it?_

_Yeah, it looks ... soft._ )

A piece of toast hanging from his mouth, he grabs the keys from the entryway table and heads to the driveway. Morning dew coats his shoes. He hops in the old pickup and pulls out just as the sun peaks over the horizon. And he drives.

The highway is mostly abandoned. Bitty munches on his toast slowly. He keeps having to shake himself: this is happening. (He’s glad he only grabbed toast. He’s not sure his stomach could handle much more.) As the signs for the airport became more frequent, Bitty becomes more nervous. He’s excited, over the moon, yes; but he’s also slightly terrified. Jack Zimmerman was arriving in Georgia to see Bitty. Just Bitty.

Is Jack nervous? Is Jack excited? Goodness, Bitty hopes Jack was looking forward to the trip. He’s making the trip wasn’t he? That says something.

The parking garage is mostly empty when Bitty pulls in. When he’s turned the ignition off, he reaches for his phone to check his messages. Nothing (yet). He resolutely slides his phone into his pocket, jittery. He gets out of the car and attempts to simply walk to the doors of the waiting area. It ends up being closer to a run. When the automatic doors slide closed behind him, he glances hurriedly around for a schedule.

Jack’s plane would be landing in 20 minutes.

Okay, Bitty can do 20 minutes. Bitty _totally_ can do 20 minutes. That was less than half the time it took to bake a pie. Psh. Easy. He settles himself down in the seating area and taps his foot, choosing to play games on his phone rather than vibrate out of his seat.

A few commuters shuffle by. Bitty glances at every one of them, thinking it’s Jack. Which is silly, honestly, what is he thinking? Jack’s plane doesn’t come in for another … ugh this is taking forever.

After a whole 25 minutes passes, and Bitty is  _not_ having it. He gets up and paces. A little alert on the screen says Jack’s plane was delayed a bit, which makes Bitty scowl. 

He’s starting to psych himself out. What if they only click while texting? (No, he remembers his time together at Samwell and they clicked then, too.) What if they run out of things to do? (Hush, he can bake to his heart’s content, show Jack around, or just sit. Just sit and talk to Jack.) What if—

It all melts away. It really does.

His first glance of Jack is quite funny, retrospectively. This large, French-Canadian hockey player determinedly elbowing his way through a crowd of people, an impatient, challenging look on his face. (He’s ready to check each and every one of those poor people.) But upon seeing Bitty, he softens. He doesn’t much care about getting people out of his way. He’s no longer all elbows and jabs. Instead he seems to just care about getting _to_ Bitty. A smile is taking over his face and there’s that crinkle around his eyes.

Bitty knows he must look just as stupidly happy, if not more.

Bitty realizes he’s taken strides forward to meet Jack halfway. And Jack’s practically jogging to get there. Bitty bites his lip so hard he’s afraid it’ll bleed on him.

Jack stops, not a foot away from him.

“Bitty,” his voice is breathless.

“Hello Jack.” Bitty stares up at Jack with absolute devotion. His sleepless night, forgotten. The delayed flight, forgotten. It’s all Jack. He’s on the tips of his toes, craning his neck, and Jack is ducking his head and hunching over.

But Bitty remembers where he is, and stops short of what he believes (hopes) was the fulfillment of both of their intentions.

“Missed you,” he whispers.

“Mhm. Missed you, too,” Jack says, staring at Bitty’s eyes, glancing at his lips. He clears his throat and reluctantly pulls back, straightening up. Bitty reaches for Jack’s duffel, purposefully brushing his hand over Jack’s more than is necessary.

“Momma would never forgive me if I didn’t show y’all some Southern hospitality.” Jack doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes sparkle and he brushes his hand up Bitty’s arm and squeezes his bicep. Bitty’s heart is in this throat. 

“Okay,” he says.

Bitty stares a moment longer before he’s jostled by the crowds of people. He takes a deep breath and begins to walk alongside Jack to the truck. They don’t say anything. Their elbows bump each other. But they don’t talk. And that’s okay. Because Bitty thinks his throat just won’t work right now, sorry.

Jack chuckles at the sight of the truck while Bitty swings the bag into the back.

“Jack Zimmerman, are you chuckling at ol’ Sally?” Hands on his hips, Bitty makes the most affronted face he can manage. (It’s not very affronted and even he knows that. He’s just so gosh darn happy.)

“No, no, I’d never.” Jack leans over the back of the pickup truck, smirking at Bitty. “I’m laughing at your size next to ol’ Sally.” Bitty scoffs and opens the driver’s door. 

“Two minutes on the ground and you’re already chirping me?” Bitty mumbles. Jack climbs into the passenger seat and barely suppresses a laugh.

Bitty stares at Jack, smiling. Jack Zimmerman, in the flesh. He almost lets out a whistle but his mouth has gone dry. Jack raises an eyebrow at him.

“Do you … want me to drive?” He jerks his head at the keys in Bitty’s hand. Bitty shakes his head, not quite registering what Jack said. After half a minute he finally gets it. 

“Oh! Oh how silly of me. No you don’t worry yourself over that.” He fumbles with the keys, trying to get them in the ignition but then he stops. (They’re in the truck now, aren’t they? Not in the crowded airport? Well then, why not?) He turns to Jack, a serious look falling across his face. “Now Momma would never forgive me if I didn’t show you some Southern hospitality …” A confused look shadows Jack’s smile. Bitty smiles inwardly. This boy.

He reaches up and cards his hand through Jack’s hair, taking the opportunity to pull Jack in. He pauses, just before their lips are about to meet. Jack’s a little breathless. And to be honest, so is Bitty.

“Welcome to Georgia,” Bitty whispers. And then he closes the distance between their lips.

It’s a soft kiss, chaste. Jack’s hands are barely midair, reaching for Bitty, when Bitty pulls back and looks up at Jack. Jack’s eyes move back and forth, checking Bitty’s, before he swoops down again and kisses Bitty more. One of his hands finds the side of Bitty’s neck, the other the small of Bitty’s back. The hand in Jack’s hair clenches a little and Bitty’s other hand rests on Jack’s knee. 

He’s twisted around as much as he can in the driver’s seat but it’s not enough. He wants to crawl over the console and curl around Jack. He wants to straddle his lap and wrap his arms around Jack’s neck. And their lips are only just touching lightly but Bitty could do it forever.

He and Jack simultaneously pull back a hair. Their lips are grazing and their warm breath rushes over each other’s mouths.

“It’s the best welcome I’ve ever received, eh?” Bitty is beaming at him. Jack kisses the corner of his mouth and then pulls back a bit farther. “How’ve you been, Bittle?” His voice is soft, timid, as if he hadn’t just been kissing Bitty silly.

“Just dandy, Mr. Zimmerman.” Bitty cards his hands through Jack’s hair a few more times. “How ‘bout yourself?”

“Pretty good, pretty good.” Jack almost leans into Bitty’s touch.

“Well as much as I’d like to stay here with you, I can think of a few better places we could be.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. Somewhere without this goddamn console, for one.” Jack laughs and it tickles Bitty to hear him laugh like that. Like Bitty has lifted weight from his shoulders.

“I’d like that, too, Bittle.” Bitty starts the car and pulls out of the garage, giddy as all get out.

When they merge onto the highway, Jack reaches over to grab one of Bitty’s hands and intertwines their fingers. Bitty glances at Jack but he’s just staring at the road, a small smile on his lips. Bitty tears his gaze away and squeezes Jack’s hand in his own.

There’s still not much traffic. It’s like they have the world to themselves.

“You must be tired,” Bitty says after a little companionable silence.

“Somehow not so much. I’m sure it’ll hit me later. But right now I’m … fantastic.”

“Tell me about the team. What are they up to during off season?”

Jack and Bitty talk like they always did at Samwell. Jack gestures while he explained what his new teammates were doing, but he never lets go of Bitty’s hand. Bitty shares stories about the camp and promises to show Jack pictures when they get back to Madison.

Now, Madison was a small town. Which meant a lot of things in the South. It meant everyone knew each other and each other’s dog. It meant the market was an extra social hour. It meant bridge was played on Sundays after church. It meant “did you hear about little Johnny? He’s dating Jennifer now …”

It meant that people talked. And therefore, it meant that Bitty was still in the closet. No one knew about his blog but for the bare minimum. “That Bittle kid, yeah the ice skater, he shares recipes on the Internet." And no one even tried to find it because they just had to ask his Momma or Aunt May for the recipes.

Jack’s talking slows down as Bitty pulls up to a curb. He’s frowning slightly. Bitty takes a deep breath and lets it go. Jack needs to know before he heads in. He’s … well, he’s implied it. But he never outright told Jack.

“I’m not …” he swallows. Hard. “I’m not out to my family yet. To anyone down here.” He stares resolutely at the steering wheel. His knuckles are a little white and he purses his lips. “It was hard enough on my Momma and Coach, bein’ the ‘ice dancer’ and all,” his head bobbles a little at the epithet. “Someday, but … well, it hasn’t happened yet.” Bitty shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. He opens them and looks over. Jack has a serious expression. His head has tilted a bit to the side, as if he’s watching Bitty carefully.

A beat.

Jack places his hand on Bitty’s knee. “Okay,” he says. Bitty gives a small smile, hoping that it conveys the gratitude he feels for Jack in that moment. (It’s like sunshine, it’s like sunshine and warm rain, washing over him. He wants to hold Jack’s hand and never let go.)

They both step out of the car into the sun. Bitty makes a grab for Jack’s duffel before Jack can. He raises an eyebrow at Jack, challenging him to grab it back. Jack smirks and shrugs.

Little Suzanne Bittle opens the door before they’ve climbed the first step.

“Jack Zimmerman, goodness gracious. Come here!” She pulls Jack into a big hug. When she finally releases him, he gives her a warm smile.

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Bittle.”

“Well come in, come in. Y’all had an early start, both of you. You must be tired. Dicky, honey, I’m just throwing some stuff together for tomorrow, salads and such. Why don’t you give Jack the tour and check in with me later?”

“Okay, Momma, will do,” Bitty says, making his way to the stairs. “Jack let me just show you around upstairs for a minute.” Jack smirks and Bitty blushes.

They climb the stairs narrow stairs together and Bitty’s heart is kicking up a bit faster than it should.

It’s not like they hadn’t talked about— 

Well, some suggestive texts were definitely exchanged—

And Bitty wanted to—

(Did Jack?)

“So that there’s the bathroom,” Bitty coughs a little and gestures to a door that’s ajar. Across from it is another door with a Samwell pennant on it. “And this is the bedroom. Um, this is well, you and I’ll be up here. We can … um we can figure that out later.” Bitty clears his throat again and sets Jack’s bag on the ground next to his desk.

Jack is standing in the doorway looking around. Bitty almost laughs at the sight. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s nervous. He feels a little more confident. Just a little. They’re on even ice.

Bitty quirks an eyebrow at him, walking over and grabbing Jack’s hand to pull him farther into the room. 

“Mr. Zimmerman, professional hockey player: hobbies include waking up early, glowering, and lurking in doorways.”

Jack laughs and so does Bitty. Bitty’s still holding his hand and Jack’s thumb brushes over his fingers.

“You’ve got me pegged, as usual.” He stares at Bitty for a beat, and then his eyes catch some shelves near the desk. “Are those your medals?” Jack moves toward them, leaving Bitty blushing by the door. There are a few ribbons, medals, and plaques hanging above his desk from his skating days. An embarrassing picture or two are probably up there as well. “You’re very graceful on the ice, I’m not surprised you have these, eh?” Jack turns and looks at Bitty.

Under Jack’s gaze, Bitty blushes even deeper. Jack winks. _That boy._ He laughs nervously and leans backwards, forgetting the door’s not completely closed—

Well, now it is. Bitty rubs the back of his head, wincing a bit. Jack looks like he can barely hold his laughter.

“Jack Zimmerman, don’t you dare laugh,” Bitty threatens, pointing a single, menacing finger at the man across from him.

“Like I said, Bittle, you’ve always been graceful,” with that comment his face splits into a shit-eating grin. He’s so proud of his own joke—what a _dork_.

“You. Did. Not. Just. Say that,” Bitty grits his teeth with each word, eyes sparkling with mirth. Jack shrugs, guilty as charged, but not ashamed. Bitty rolls his eyes, chuckling a little. He saunters over to where Jack is standing. “Goodness, these are a throwback. All my sequins and spangles. I never would have guessed that I’d be playing college hockey when these were taken.” He gestures to a few pictures. In them he’s young, his hair is long, and his smile is big.

Jack’s hand brushes up Bitty’s forearm, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

“Are you happy?” Bitty almost doesn’t hear him.

“What?”

“Are you happy? With Samwell? With hockey?” Jack’s voice trails off. Maybe he had another question, but it he puts on the back burner. Bitty stares at him for a moment, thinking.

“Darlin’ I’ve never been happier.”

And Jack _glows_. His smile radiates warmth and it crashes over Bitty like a wave. He needs to be near this boy. Suddenly the summer so far seems inadequate. How did they manage just texting?

He can’t help himself but to lean up and kiss Jack. Jack hesitates, pulling back far enough to say “—Your mother,” but Bitty just kisses him, mumbling something about hollering up first if she needed anything.

Jack then leans down, a hand on Bitty’s waist, the other hand cradling the back of Bitty’s head. And Bitty finally gets his chance to wrap his arms around Jack’s neck and lean up close. Bitty can tell Jack’s being cautious, keeping an ear out for someone at the door. But that’s not what Bitty wants. He wants Jack to let go. He wants to see the line in his shoulders soften.

Bitty gets an idea. He moves his hands to Jack’s shoulders and pushes gently backwards, taking a small step as he does so. Jack gets the hint and carefully starts walking backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He stops there but Bitty is not having any of that, so with a little shove, Jack’s sitting on the bed.

At first, Jack pulls away, looking up at Bitty’s face, checking his eyes.

Bitty tilts his head forward and leans in a bit, pulling his hands down Jack’s arms to where Jack’s holding his waist. Bitty pushes himself forward with Jack’s hands slowly, placing one knee on the bed. He pauses, waiting for Jack to show any sign of hesitance.

Jack’s eyes are a little wide, his irises barely visible. Bitty can feel puffs of breath hit his neck. He’s staring at Bitty’s eyes, watching.

Bitty’s surprised to feel a tug at his waist, giving him the stability to place his knee on the other side of Jack’s hips, effectively straddling him. He smiles at Jack, glad that he wants this, too. Bitty runs his hands back up Jack’s arms, over his shoulders, and into his hair.

Jack marvels at Bitty. He’s tilted his head up so he could meet Bitty’s eyes, his hands clutching at Bitty’s shirt.

Bitty tilts his hips forward a bit as he slides down to settle on Jack’s lap. They slot together perfectly and Bitty doesn’t think too hard about where they’re pressed against one another. His hands curl in Jack’s hair and he ducks his head a little, catching his nose under Jack’s jaw and kissing there softly.

Jack’s arms circle around Bitty’s torso, bringing him close. When Bitty kisses his pulse point, he feels Jack’s muscles relax. He cranes his neck, seeking Jack’s mouth. 

Their lips meet, chaste at first. Their noses brush against each other. Their fingers coil. Their breath quickens.

Then Bitty opens his mouth a little more and lets his tongue slide across Jack’s upper lip. Jack immediately opens his mouth in reciprocation and it’s all Bitty can do not to dive right in.

So he’s careful. He moves a hand to cup Jack’s cheek, leaving the other in Jack’s hair. His kisses are slow. Jack’s are as well. They’re exploring each other, taking care. And when their tongues do finally brush, they savor the feeling.

Jack’s fingers play with the hem of Bitty’s shirt, brushing against his back. Bitty shivers at the touch, letting his teeth scrape along Jack’s lower lip. Taking that as encouragement, Jack slips his hands under Bitty’s shirt and runs them along his spine and shoulder blades. A small sound escapes Bitty’s lips and Jack’s hands still for a moment while he deepens the kiss. This time the sound Bitty makes is a bit more purposeful, a bit lower. Jack tilts his hip upwards, almost in a thrusting motion, without thinking. He gasps and pulls back, Bitty following impatiently with his mouth.

“Shit, Bitty, sorry. Was that …?” He finally looks at Bitty, who’s flushed from the face down, who is breathing hard beneath Jack’s hands, who’s very much so not uncomfortable with what just happened.

“Jack …” Bitty breathes out slowly, his eyes flitting around Jack’s face. He pushes his hips in a slight, downward motion and gasps. Jack’s hands curl on Bitty’s back. They ground Bitty, remind him where they are. So Bitty stops and leans down to kiss Jack with the barest touch of lips. And this time when he pulls back, Jack is the one to chase _his_ lips. “Jack, honey, as much as it pains me,” Bitty’s still catching his breath, “we should think about finishing … the tour.”

Jack’s mouth is only inches from Bitty’s; they’re sharing breath.

“Okay,” Jack says against Bitty’s lips. But he doesn’t make any move to pulls his hands out from under Bitty’s shirt or move away from Bitty’s mouth. Bitty smiles and leans in, kissing Jack a little harder than before, nipping a little at Jack’s lower lip before sitting back a little. Watching Jack stare up at him, a little crease between his eyebrows, Bitty reaches behind himself and takes one of Jack’s hands. He brings it to his lips and kisses the palm. He does the same with the other hand. Then he carefully stands up, Jack’s hands in his, and he gently pulls until Jack’s standing, too.

Jack sways a bit on his feet. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes halfway closed. He’s leaning precariously towards Bitty, hair mussed and pupils wide.

“I’m glad you came, Jack,” Bitty blushes a bit at his phrasing.

“Me, too,” Jack says. He clears his throat. “So far, so good.” And he smiles.

“Just good, Mr. Zimmerman?” Bitty cracks a smile, his tone joking.

“I think it’ll get better.” Bitty almost misses the mischievous smirk that plays across Jack’s face.

“I think that can be arranged.” Bitty let’s his fingers ghost over the insides of Jack’s wrists and his palms. “But for now, let’s go make an appearance downstairs.” Bitty squeezes Jack’s hand between his own and before he lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) 
> 
> I'm letting you know now that finals are hurtling at me like a large hockey player gearing up to check me and while I won't pass out like Bitty I will be AWOL. I thought I'd post this before life gets too rough
> 
> Anywho love y'all to bits <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re …” Bitty trails off. Jack raises an eyebrow. “Pretty incredible.”
> 
> “Just pretty?” Jack counters. Bitty shrugs, smirking up at Jack. “I’ll take it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long~
> 
> <3 <3 <3

Downstairs, Bitty shows Jack his parents’ room, the sitting room, dining room, and the Kitchen, with a capital K. His Momma is busy chopping and when she sees them she immediately puts them to work.

And darn it all if Jack doesn’t look so adorable in the apron he borrows.

Suzanne Bittle is very sweet. She’s the woman on the cover of Southern Living’s less aggressive cousin-magazine that is all about pies and pork roasts. She and Jack get along very well, which pleases Bitty to no end.

“So where do you live in Providence, Jack honey?”

“Just south of the rink, ma’am. About 20 minutes with traffic.”  
  
“Well that’s not too bad, isn’t it Dicky?

“Mhm, Momma, that’s not too far.”

Potato salads, tuna salads, and other cold dishes were prepared with casual efficiency. Sometimes Bitty would step back and watch his mother and Jack work together while he washed some dishes. Something in his heart swelled but something in his throat felt tight. Someday he’d tell her, maybe.

Some soft music plays while they work and at one point, Suzanne Bittle _definitely_ swoops Jack up and dances around the island in the Kitchen. Bitty clutches his sides in laughter. Jack blushes hard but out of sheer politeness keeps up with his hostess. Wiping tears from his eyes, Bitty applauds them when the song ends while his Momma bows, waving her spatula in the air.

Bitty glances at Jack who smiles and looks at his shoes. When he meets Bitty’s eye again, Bitty winks, sending Jack into a fit of giggling. And goodness gracious was that a lovely sight.

Jack’s mother shooed them out of the kitchen around lunchtime with sandwiches and lemonade. They sat on the porch swing and ate in silence. Bitty hadn’t stopped smiling and Jack kept shooting him shy glances. When they finish, Jack insists on clearing their plates and cups, disappearing indoors while Bitty swings alone.

The chains suspending the swing creak a bit. The sun beats down on the asphalt. Bitty inhales deeply and closes his eyes.

Georgia is his home. It is. But he’s not sure he wants it to be his only home. It has many shadows in his mind. As would any place. But, well, being back now, while it does tug at his heartstrings, there’s something about not being … cozy, that he misses. You don’t bundle up in Georgia. You don’t snuggle down. In Massachusetts he could.

Warmth felt different in Massachusetts. At Samwell. And while baking sidewalks and crispy grass was childhood, maple leaves and blankets are now.

The screen door slams and Bitty jumps. He looks up to see Jack walking over. He smiles at him.

“Whatcha got there, handsome?” Jack swings a black bag over his shoulder.

“Thought you could take me to see the sights.”

“You’re …” Bitty trails off. Jack raises an eyebrow. “Pretty incredible.”

“Just pretty?” Jack counters. Bitty shrugs, smirking up at Jack. “I’ll take it.”

“You said something about the sights, Mr. Zimmerman?” Bitty pushes himself on the swing.

They walked side by side down the street and Bitty points out old landmarks and tells anecdotes. Jack smiles down at him and wishes he could take Bitty’s hand.

The reached the end of a small side road but Bitty keeps walking, grabbing Jack’s sleeve, pulling him into the grass.

“Public land, just trust me.” Eventually Bitty lets go of Jack’s sleeve. While he’s distracted, leading them through the field, Jack unzips his black bag and pulls his camera out. He stops walking for a moment and snaps a shot. Bitty turns and looks at Jack, confused at first, and just he starts to beam; Jack snaps another. He lowers the camera and grins.

“Gotcha, eh?”

“Jack Zimmerman,” Bitty smiles and shakes his head.

They keep walking together until they reach an old tree, standing alone. Bitty sits with his legs crossed in the dirt, leaning against the trunk. The bark is dry and the ground is hard, but the shade, the shade is nice. Jack settles next to him, setting the camera bag down.

To be honest, Bitty’s worry had disappeared these past few hours.

But something is starting to sit in his gut, press against his diaphragm. It’s like he can’t get enough air. His eyes wander into middle-space. Maybe he should talk to—

“Bitty?” Bitty snaps to attention. Jack’s eyebrows are tilted and he’s searching Bitty’s face for something.

“Sorry, sorry, just … thinking.” Jack purses his lips, debating something momentarily before deciding.

“What about?” He reaches for Bitty’s hand, not grasping or twining their fingers together. He just lays his hand over Bitty’s and waits.

“You know … I love,” Bitty swallows, Jack inhales, “I love that you’re here. But I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes. I feel like—I feel like this is going to be hard. It’s not, well to be completely honest, it’s not what I thought my time in college would be like. And that’s okay. But I’m …” Bitty clenches his fist under Jack’s hand and frowns. “Scared?” It sounds like a question but both Jack and Bitty know it’s not.

Jack stares resolutely at his hand covering Bitty’s, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

“I … I won’t be able to come out any time soon.” It sounds like he’s forcing the words out, not like he doesn’t want to say them, more like he doesn’t want them to be true. “And I … I hate that being with you will mean making you go back in the closet, after you were able to let go at Samwell … after you were able to …” Jack trails off and frowns harder.

Bitty’s breath is shaky.

“Believe it or not, Jack honey, that’s not the part that scares me. I’m scared of not being there for you? Not being … enough, I guess. And yeah, I won’t be able to sky-write our names in a giant heart any time soon,” Jack chuckles, peering up at Bitty, “and, I’m gonna be honest, that’ll make me sad sometimes.”

The warm wind weaves through the branches. The leaves rattle against each other. A few strands of Bitty’s hair float momentarily before settling down on his forehead.

“I’ve only just got my chance and I want to do right,” Bitty’s accent gets a little thick and he swallows around some hard emotion that’s threatening to escape. “And I’m sorry I can’t express why or how or what it is but I’m scared. I’m scared, Jack. That’s … that’s all I can say.”

Jack breathes deeply, purposefully, as if he’s counting the seconds of inhale and exhale.

Inhale one, Jack’s eyes close. Two, he frowns. Three, he holds Bitty’s hand a little tighter. Four, he opens his eyes.

Exhale one, he meets Bitty’s eyes, which are shining a bit in the afternoon sun. Two, his throat works around the words he wants but can’t find. Three, he nods minutely. Four, he squares his shoulders.

“I am, too,” he admits.

Bitty closes his eyes, a few tears escaping, rolling down his cheeks. Jack sits up a little straighter and tries to brush them away with his thumb. Bitty smiles and laughs, a little sad. He presses his hand to Jack’s, holding against his face.

“So let’s talk game plan,” Jack says. Bitty can’t help but smile and nod. It’s always about the next play.

Who are they going to tell?

Not the Haus. Not yet, at least. Too much alcohol flows through that place to trust lips to be sealed.

Will they visit?

Of course.

How often?

Once a month, at least. At the very, very least.

Talking?

There’s texting, calling, and Skyping. It’s all going to happen.

Emergencies?

They’ll try and get to each other.

They’re still talking, as the sun gets lower in the sky. Smiles are making a comeback and laughter is rolling in the wind. Leaning against each other more than the tree now, quiet falls between them. Bitty lets his head fall on Jack’s shoulder and Jack turns his head to press a kiss into Bitty’s hair.

“I want this. I _will_ fight for it.” It’s a promise on Jack’s lips.

Bitty lifts his head and turns to look at Jack. He places his hands on Jack’s face and kisses him, hard, pouring his feeling into it—his want, his tenacity, his care. There’s a desperate edge to it all, but in the end, it really is a promise. They’re going to fight for this.

They pull away from each other slowly, concentrating on remembering that moment.

“It’s almost suppertime,” Bitty states, still not opening his eyes.

“Better get going,” Jack says, not moving.

The breeze whistles, soft in their hair. Their clothes are a bit sticky with humidity. Jack can feel Bitty’s breath. Bitty can feel Jack’s pulse.

Suddenly, Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” is blaring into the quiet air. They both jump practically three feet in the air and Bitty scrambles for his phone. Jack’s laugh is loud.

“You better change that ringtone, Bittle,” he chirps. Bitty finally gets a hold of the phone and answers it, stifling laughter at Jack.

“Momma? Yes, we’ll be home soon. Went for a walk, showed Jack the town … Yes, lordie, it got warm. But we lost track of time … Mhm, okay, will do.” He hangs up the phone and playfully punches Jack in the arm. “You ready to head back?”

One could read into the question, say it’s more than it seems. Ready to head out into the world? Ready to leave the quiet shade? Ready to be with me? Yes, one could read into it. And maybe Jack just did, because his response, while full of mirth, was serious.

“Yes.” Bitty grins and nods in agreement.

He starts to stand, but Jack is quicker and scoops Bitty up, spinning him around for a moment. He starts to march towards the road. Bitty protests, breathless with laughter.

“Jack! Laurent! Zimmerman! Y’all put me down this very _second_!” His voice climbs in octaves and Jack shakes with laughter. He places Bitty down who huffs and splutters and, after a second, giggles. He takes Jack’s hand and squeezes it tight, looking at him in wonder. This boy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty can see Jack’s shoulders slouching and his head hanging. He stares a little, wanting deeply to hold Jack close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bits, his heart is in his throat. Sleeping together can be a big deal ...

Dinner with Bitty’s parents went mostly well. The food was simple, delicious, and exactly what one would expect from the household that reared Eric Bittle. The “mostly” well qualification was earned by Bitty’s father, as usual.

“Well, son,” he said, addressing Jack, “I am glad to say that Eric is playing hockey. It’s more … respectable, than the other ice dancing stuff.” Bitty normally wouldn’t have flinched. He knew his father’s opinions. But he was with _Jack_. He didn’t want to get into this.

It was always a sore spot. Bitty had learned to get past it. His father, too. But much as old scars shine in certain lights, old parenting insecurities did, too.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bitty watches Jack carefully. But the only movement he could catch was Jack’s fist clenching slightly under the table but then relaxing. He took a bite of his food.

“Eric is the fastest of all of us. He’s one of the most technically skilled players I’ve met, sir,” Jack takes another bite of his food. Bitty exhales.

“Don’t go exaggerating, Jack,” Bitty jokes, rolling his eyes. And they moved on with their meal.

When all the dishes are all dry and Bitty’s parents are on the front porch, the two boys head upstairs, tired after their early starts. Bitty can see Jack’s shoulders slouching and his head hanging. He stares a little, wanting deeply to hold Jack close.

When they get to the bedroom, Bitty remembers the great sleeping-arrangements-conundrum of 2015 and quickly makes his excuses—all cuddling soon forgotten, the logistics of it all too much to handle.

“Gonna—shower! Yeah shower, be back in a bit.” He bolts, leaving Jack unsure whether he should smile or look concerned.

While cool water pelts Bitty’s back, he sighs. He wants Jack in his bed. He wants to wake up next to Jack and kiss him good morning. But is that too fast? Is that too much? Will Jack think it’s silly? This is the second day they’ve been physically together, counting graduation. And that’s generous as it is. But … well, they’ve been talking for so long. And while Bitty tries to quash down the thought, it occurs to him that he might not see Jack again until he’s back at Samwell.

Bitty turns the water off and dries quickly. He wraps the towel around his waist and brushes his teeth, resolved to ask Jack to sleep next to him tonight. Spitting into the sink, he looks up.

His hair is sticking up a little funny. He hasn’t styled it yet. He frowns and runs his fingers through it impatiently and then sighs, exasperated.

He squares his shoulders and marches back to his room.

Jack’s leaning over his bag, pulling some clothes out.

“Bitty do you have—“

“Shower’s free!” They say at the same time. Jack turns, smiling up at Bitty but his eyes immediately drop to the towel around Bitty’s waist, the smile hanging there still. He drags his gaze back up to Bitty’s face only to encounter the smug smirk of one Eric Bittle. He rolls his eyes playfully.

“I was _going_ to say do you have toothpaste I could borrow. I forgot mine.” Still grinning, Bitty saunters over to his dresser, a little confidence under his feet.

“In the cabinet behind the mirror, help yourself.” Jack chuckles, but there’s a heat to it. He lingers a moment, staring at Bitty who’s fussing around in his drawer with one hand, holding the towel up with the other. Bitty winks at him, which has the same effect as it did before. Jack ducks his head and leaves. Who knew that the tips of someone’s ears could turn so red?

Bitty slides on some boxers and an old tee. Hands on his hips, he stares at the sleeping bag on the floor. No, he’s going to ask Jack. He kicks the folded bedding, as if he’s defeating it.

Speaking of, Bitty hears the shower stop and some rustling from across the hall. The speedy shower of an athlete, apparently. The faucet is running when Bitty decides to sit in his bed with an obvious open space next to him and pretend to scroll through Twitter (as if he could focus on anything but Jack, here, soon, in his bed).

Jack walks into Bitty’s room still rubbing the towel through his hair. He’s already dressed in a t-shirt and pants. He smiles at Bitty, a little shy.

“Hi there,” he says, hanging the towel on a hook. The door swings shut behind him.

“Hey, handsome.” Bitty, with no attempt to hide it, checks Jack out a bit. Jack chuckles and sits down on Bitty’s bed. “Jack.”  
  
“Hm?” Jack yawns wide, stretching. A strip of skin shows just below his shirt and Bitty swallows.

Wow, Bitty was suddenly nervous? Why was he nervous? This is dumb. It’s okay.

“Sleep here? That is … sorry, that is if you want? If you don’t I’ve got a sleepin’ bag and plenty of pillows and—“

“Bitty,” Bitty stops. “I’m glad you asked. I’d love to.” There’s something soft about Jack. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the shower. But Bitty melts a bit. He nods and Jack climbs into bed more. Bitty drops his phone on the bedside table and pulls the blankets up a bit.

The bedside lamp casts dramatic shadows over Jack’s face. He looked less guarded, less sharp. Half his face is lost in the pillow but he smiles with sleepy eyes. Bitty, while settling down himself, reaches blindly for the lamp and shuts it off.

“It’s early,” he whispers, as if it’s the middle of the night. But the setting sun shines a bit into the room.

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Jack’s quiet, too. He grabs Bitty’s hand and holds it for just a second, before bringing it to his chest and pressing it there. Bitty can’t help but smile and burry his nose in the blankets.

“Y’all are too sweet.” Jack guides Bitty’s hand up over his shoulder and to his neck, effectively bringing Bitty closer. And Bitty lifts his head just in time to meet Jack’s lips in a soft, lazy kiss. He slides himself over more so he’s pressed against Jack and Jack hooks their ankles together, tangling their legs.

Bitty’s thumb is making small circles on Jack’s pulse point. Jack’s hand is firm against Bitty’s lower back, holding them close together.

When their tongues meet, it’s not as new and exciting as it had been that morning. (And goodness it was only _just_ this morning.) No, it felt familiar. And safe. Like there was nothing to worry about.

Jack exhales slowly through his nose, his movements slowing. Bitty pulls back a little.

“Jack, honey, let’s sleep? I’m beat, you’re beat, tomorrow’s a whole new day.” Jack smiles big, leaning in and kissing Bitty again, almost missing his mouth.

“’Kay.”

“Need to wake up for anything tomorrow?”

“A run,” Jack yawns.

“Mhm, well, take it easy. Goodnight, Jack.” Jack’s arm tightens around Bitty’s waist and Bitty smiles, snuggling up against Jack’s shoulder.

“’Night, Bits.”  
  
And they sleep so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all and thank you for all your kind words~
> 
> There's more to come <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How'd you like to see our own private fireworks?"

The sun doesn’t shine through as much next time Bitty opens his eyes. He can just barely see his and Jack’s hands lying atop one another, fingers lazily curling around each other. Bitty has to squint a little before he remembers what that business was all about.

When he does, he smiles.

His squeezes Jack’s hand lightly and lifts his head a little. Jack’s face is totally relaxed. And it’s sweet. It’s so sweet to see him like that. Bitty scooches himself forward so he can burrow in close. Jack inhales through his nose, rearranging himself to hold Bitty, one heavy arm slung over Bitty’s waist.

They’re both fast asleep.

That is, they’re both fast asleep for several more hours because nothing can keep Jack down when he needs to run.

“Bittle?” Bitty frowns, his nose wrinkling. One eye opens a tad but then immediately closes.

“Jack, honey, it’s the Fourth. Go back to sleep.” It’s a barely audible admonition seeing as Bitty’s mouth is mostly full of blanket. Jack chuckles and Bitty feels it vibrate in his chest.

“I’ll be back in half an hour then.”

A kiss is planted in Bitty’s hair and, much to Jack’s enjoyment, Bitty makes vague kissing movements before promptly falling back to sleep.

The rest of the morning is fairly routine. (Or at least, Bitty hopes that it will someday be routine.)

When Jack returns, he showers and creeps back to bed, navigating the splayed limbs of one Eric Bittle. At this disturbance, however, Bitty does wake. And when he peeks out from under the covers, he deems it worthy to shimmy up to peck Jack on the cheek and ask him how his run went.

When they’re both finally up and at ‘em, they head downstairs. And it’s the calm before the storm down there, that’s for sure.

Suzanne Bittle sits at the kitchen table with her recipe clippings (with many scrawling annotations) and a mug of coffee. She’s very quiet. She’s sitting up very straight. And she seems, at first glance, to be completely at ease. Bitty knows better.

“I’ll get breakfast rolling,” he says, kissing his mother on her temple. She barely reacts, just turning over another clipping. Jack and Bitty scramble some eggs and bacon for the three of them. (Coach, Bitty explains, will have left for an early training.) Suzanne Bittle accepts her plate and picks at it absentmindedly.

“What can we do to help, Momma?” Bitty asks, clearing their places.

“Hm? Oh don’t you worry, sweetheart. There’s not much to be done ‘round here. I’ll get the pies going and then it’ll be a breeze. Your daddy’s going to grill. Uncle Lester will be over soon—“ And she’s rattling off the day’s schedule. Oddly enough, during her longwinded explanation of a very stressful day ahead, she seems more relaxed.

Bitty glances over at Jack. His eyes have widened slightly and Bitty smiles.

“How ‘bout Jack and I get the crusts going and you take some time?”

“Thank you, Dicky,” Mrs. Bittle says, leaning down to kiss Bitty’s forehead.

Once she’s gone, Bitty grins at Jack.

“You good?” He asks.

“Fantastic,” he pauses, “Dicky.”

Bitty bites his tongue and glares at Jack. Jack smiles innocently up at him. In a huff, Bitty marches to the counter and grabs an apron. He chucks it at Jack, which spectacularly lands in Jack’s face.

“Hurry it up, we haven’t got all day,” he chastises. Jack, barely containing his laughter, ties the apron tight and stands, at the ready, for Bitty’s command.

The morning they spent rolling out crusts, and when Suzanne Bittle rejoined them, preparing fillings. After working with Bitty in their food history course, Jack was good at following instructions. Despite her apparent stress, Mrs. Bittle still managed to make the kitchen warm with her joy.

After lunch, the day really began to get away from them. Coach and Uncle Lester were finally home and had enlisted Jack to help set up tents and tables in the back. Bitty and his Momma really start baking up a storm in the kitchen. But still, Bitty finds excuses to duck outside and check on Jack, and every time he does, Jack catches his eye and smiles, nodding a little.

Bitty thinks about how he wants this day to go, his hands automatically braiding the pie crusts.

He knows his relatives will be filing in later. There’ll be kids running around with sparklers, coolers full of beer, non-stop barbecue and pie. Really, the picturesque Fourth of July. The Bittles should be on post cards.

He imagines Jack shaking hands with some cousins and uncles, making small talk, listening politely, as he does. He imagines keepin’ an eye on him, making sure he’s all right. (He imagines holding his hand under the picnic table, forcing each of them to eat one-handed, but with smiles on their faces.) And as the night winds down, he’s not entirely sure what he imagines will happen …

Kids will slump on their parents’ laps. Trash bags will be filled. A few of the older cousins will bring out their backpacks, stuffed with big ones, ready to light them off.

Bitty … well, he has an idea for what he and Jack can do. But later, that’s for later.

So by the time the party is up and running, Bitty is exhausted. He slumps in a foldout lawn chair, pop in hand, and looks around. Jack isn’t immediately visible, which gives him pause. He shakes his head. Jack probably just went inside for a second. Bitty leans his head back and sighs a weary sigh. Party prepping is fun, it sure is, but it wears him out.

He can almost … fall … asleep.

But no, no wait, he has to stay awake. Come on, this wouldn’t do. He stands up and walks over to his Momma and joins the chatter. Aunt Arlene is telling a story about one of her “rascals,” Cousin Suzy is talking about her degree in sociology, and Uncle Frank is nodding and grunting appropriately. Bitty is an avid listener, and he prides himself on that. But something’s tugging at his attention. And when the sun finally drops almost below the horizon, he excuses himself to look for Jack.

Where was he? _Shit_. Bitty hasn’t seen him in a few hours. Not since the grilling really got going.

He lets himself in the house, screen door crashing shut behind him. Flicking on a few lights, he sets his pop down on the counter and heads upstairs.

“Jack?” He’s quiet, not wanting to scare anyone.

He gets to his bedroom and his shoulders fall heavily. Jack, apparently having sat down (probably “for just a moment”) had fallen asleep flat on his back on Bitty’s bed.

Bitty feels something wash over him. He finds a smile on his face. His fingers curl a little. He feels pure affection for Jack. That boy.

He creeps slowly into the room and sits on the bed, next to Jack, who stirs at the movement. Bitty cards his fingers through Jack’s hair, which seals the deal. Jack’s eyes open slowly and he smiles slowly, as he registers Bitty’s presence.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself, sleepy.” Jack’s eyes widen and he sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, Bitty, did I…?” Bitty nods. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I came up here for a sec to charge my phone and I guess … I guess …” Bitty saves him the trouble.

“Party’s going fine. Just thought I’d come up and see where you’d gotten yourself off to.” Jack smiles. He leans in a little, pausing slightly, and then he kisses Bitty carefully on the cheek.

Gracious, Bitty didn’t know he could blush that hard.

“What time is it?” Jack asks, pulling away a bit.

“Just after nine, fireworks will start soon.”

“I bet those are a big deal, eh?” Bitty chuckles and weaves his fingers in between Jack’s.

“Mhm, you bet they are, Mister Zimmerman. But we’ll let the cousins handle that, hm? I’ve got plans.” Jack’s eyebrows raise and he stares down at Bitty.

“Plans?”

“How’d you like to see our own private fireworks?”

For a second, there’s only silence between them. Bitty’s eyes sparkle a bit in the dusk light. Jack’s response is soft around the edges.

“Well, I’d like that very much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end ... I'm pretty sure it'll be a happy one :)
> 
> EDIT: sorry the next update is taking so long guys. I started work for the summer and it's been a whirlwind. I'll have it up as soon as I can. xo


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lone firework pops in the sky. 
> 
> Jack looks up at Bitty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I left this for so long. I didn't quite know how I wanted it to end.
> 
> This is a sort of epilogue to the whole fic? It's short. It's the end. But hey, maybe it's ~just the beginning~ and there'll be sequels.

Bitty never thought he’d be here. He walks along side of Jack but it’s all in slow motion.

His fingers are tingling and his stomach … well, he keeps swallowing and biting his lips. He keeps smiling too wide, his mouth hurts. He laughs from the back of his throat at the children running around with sparklers, stopping just short of a collision with them. He glances up at Jack, who grins down at him softly, warmly. For a second, Bitty can’t look away. And he knows it’s cliché but he feels like they’re the only two in the yard.

Bitty lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He nods his head and makes his way to the truck.

They climb in the truck and it starts with a rumble. Bitty pulls out the driveway slowly, lightly tapping the horn when some of the younger cousins get in his way.

Driving down the streets during the Fourth of July was an exercise in patience. Bitty’s fingers were tapping against the wheel as he slows down for yet another group of teens wandering around.

“Where’re you taking me?” Bitty jumps and Jack laughs, reaching over and placing his hand on Bitty’s shoulder. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Bitty scoffs.

“Of course you didn’t.” Jack rolls his eyes and Bitty thinks he can’t believe he’s doing this. “I’m taking you somewhere special. I used to bike there as a kid.”

The rest of the ride is made in comfortable silence. Sparklers and bursts of light dance along the sidewalks. Bitty drives them farther and farther from the neighborhoods and shops. They’re pulling into farmland with a few patches of trees. Bitty pulls off down a gravel road, they pass an old sign that reads, “camp ground closed.”

“Bits?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, honey.”

There’s a patch of trees. Bitty recognizes them from his childhood.

Jack looks over at him. Eyes thoughtful. Careful.

They get out of the truck together, without a word. Bitty opens the gate to the back of the truck and spreads the blanket he brought. He hops up. Jack follows suit.

They sit across from each other, looking anywhere but each others’ faces. Jack’s twisting his fingers around. Bitty’s biting his lip.

A lone firework pops in the sky.

Jack looks up at Bitty.

“I’ve made mistakes in the past.” Bitty holds his breath. “I want to tell you … about them. So I don’t make them again.” Jack stops and he seems to be chewing on his words. He frowns. Bitty stares at him for a moment and then feels himself relax.

“C’mere, Jack.” He leans forward to grab Jack’s hand, pulling gently. Jack moves to sit next to Bitty. He settles a few inches away. He’s tense. His shoulders are up in his ears.

“Bittle, I—“

“We’ve got time.” Bitty’s voice is low. “Lots of time.” Suddenly, Jack’s grip on Bitty’s hand is tight.

“Thank you,” it’s an exhale, almost too quiet.

Bitty leans into Jack, cheek pressing against his shoulder. Jack rests his head on Bitty’s.

The fireworks start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading <3
> 
> I love to hear your comments. If you have ideas for sequels or something let me know :)
> 
> I just love you all so much <3


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